Wednesday, January 21, 2015
Tuesday, January 20, 2015
Genre: paranormal/ interracial romance
Publisher: Isisindc Publishing
Date of Publication: January 2, 2015
Number of pages: 248
Word Count: 91,272
Cover Artist: Fiona Jayde
To walk the earth she must feed her hollow soul.
Some of the most beautiful people in the world are not human they have no soul. They feel no emotion and are pure evil. You can tell by the color of their dark dead eyes. Samuel Glaus knows this. He is after all half-human, the son of a human mother and soulless father, and a hunter of the soulless. He is also in love with one who cannot love him back.
Thalya is a soulless creature, but unlike others of her kind she does not kill to feed her hollow soul. She hungers for emotion and above all she hungers for Samuel’s love. Her enemy. Her redemption. And she’s willing to kill for it.
Book Trailer: http://youtu.be/wcRjCtD-a14
Opening up her senses, she sniffed out the most depressed in the city block around her. While she had no human sense of smell, the scents of emotions to her were as potent, as humans would say a bouquet of freshly cut roses.
Right across the street a man entered the park. The scent of his depression floated right to her on the wind. Hot, potent and yummy, she would feed on it for a few days. There were no others of her kind in the area, so she wouldn’t have to warn anyone off. Although, quite a few soulless resided in New York, the size of the area ensured she didn’t run into others if she didn’t want to, which she usually didn’t.
Going back inside her penthouse condo, she walked across thick sand-colored carpet. Her artist friend, Franklin, would have both loved and hated the great room. Loved it for the cool colors—reds, beiges, and golds. Those had been his favorites, but then she’d stuck a long, extra-wide black leather sofa smack in the center of it. He hated leather and black.
Franklin, long gone…just another from her past.
She put on her long coat, and headed for her private elevator. She didn’t need it but she wanted to blend in. Tonight she would act normal. Normal, at least for a human. As an additional benefit, when she walked through her lobby to get to the street, she would open her senses to her immediate surroundings, sampling a taste of surface emotions as she passed by.
Not all of her kind could suck out emotion without touch but as an olden, one from a time long past and more powerful than most, she could. But other things also set her apart from those like her. She did not need to kill her providers or have them kill others to satisfy her needs. Draining humans of their depression, her emotion of choice, more than satisfied her. Humans carried it in abundance. She merely put her providers to sleep and afterwards, they usually woke up feeling less depressed. Hers represented a more symbiotic relationship. She actually helped people, much like a psychiatrist would. Only, instead of talking them out of their depression, she drained it right out of them.
The elevator door opened and she got on.
The hotel where she lived also housed private residences, but a few guests milled around the lobby for the evening. Just enough people around with some serious issues to make her grin and tremble within her ankle-length leather coat.
“Delicious,” she purred. Red knee high stiletto boots clicked as she crossed the polished marble floor. She ignored the appreciative looks of the men and women as she glided among them, intentionally projecting a do not approach compulsion. Look but don’t touch, unless she was the one doing the touching.
The doorman opened the door for her and smiled. “Good evening. Cold one tonight.” Bundled in layers and with a wool cap on his head, he stood directly beneath a heating vent to stay warm.
He always spoke. She rarely did and tonight, she didn’t. She flashed him some teeth in the semblance of a smile. At least she hoped it looked like a smile and not a grimace. Happiness. It rolled off him in waves. She’d never tried draining that emotion from her providers, although over the centuries she’d met a few of her kind who preferred it. Anything to fill the void in the soulless place. But stealing someone else’s happiness always seemed unnecessary to her. Depression worked just fine.
Out on the sidewalk, the scent hit her again. Like a shining point of light in dark woods, the depressed man she’d sensed beckoned her to follow him. After crossing the street, Thalya entered the park. It didn’t take long to find him.
He sat on a bench at the other end of the park, leaning over with his head in his hands.
She wouldn’t be able to read his thoughts until she actually touched him. No matter, she sensed his depression.
She sat on the bench next to him; he didn’t even bother to look up. Thalya placed her hand on his shoulder and her inner feminine muscles contracted to the point, she almost had an orgasm.
Depression, and so potent.
“Mmm, good,” she murmured.
At her touch, he raised red-rimmed eyes in her direction.
Finally, she had his attention.
He pulled back slightly, some form of self-preservation kicking in. “Who—are you?”
“Shhh. It will be all right. I promise,” she whispered.
The man sat up and she wrapped her arms around him.
Unable to help himself, he let her.
Hmm, handsome. She always seemed to gravitate toward the young, good-looking ones, although she’d never sleep with any of them. Well, hardly ever. She nuzzled the side of his neck. Under the alcohol he’d indulged in, he exuded a nice clear human scent. Given his emotional state, she’d expected the scent of alcohol to be stronger. Surprisingly she only caught a slight whiff. No more than a beer. Maybe he just started on his drinking for the evening. Didn’t matter. Whatever he’d ingested, she didn’t care about.
She didn’t give him a chance to say more. Instead, she made her way to his mouth, which opened as soon as she pressed her lips against his. Unleashing her powers, she inhaled his depression into the starving emptiness that should have housed her soul, and at the same time, began to read his memories.
Poor thing. Karl, yes…Karl Hammer. He’d recently lost his job and his wife, pregnant with their first child, didn’t know about it. He’d swallowed his pride and asked his blood uncle of sorts for help. Except Karl hadn’t spoken to his uncle in years. Mmm, interesting. She probed for the reason why.
Samuel and the others like him lived a dangerous life. Samuel, a master hunter of the soulless and Karl, merely—bait.
Character Name: Thalya just Thalya
Character Bio: I was born at the birth place of time. I have no clear memory of my beginning only that I was and I am. I am a soulless one. You see I have no soul thus feel no emotion. But I do have a driving need to feel. I seek above all else this need to fill that void deep inside where a soul should reside with emotion. I have traveled the earth searching for depression, my emotion of choice. With but a kiss I drain depression from unsuspecting humans. But I do not kill them. There is no need. So while I sate my blinding hunger it is never quite satisfied…until Samuel. The one who hunts me.
Describe yourself what is your worst and best quality?
I have no best or worst quality but I am sure a human would value the fact that I do not kill them to feed my hunger, nor am I the cause of their depression. And perhaps the cure. When I am done I drain the depression right out of them. So I am sort of a helper if you will, helping them get over that emotion, get rid of all that negative energy and all free of charge.
What is the one thing you wish other people knew about you?
I don’t bite. *grins*
What is your biggest secret something no one knows about?
I find myself suddenly hungering for Samuel’s blood.
What are you most afraid of?
Suddenly I know this emotion. That I will take blood from Samuel and drain him.
What do you want more than anything?
To feel Samuel’s love.
What is your relationship status?
How would you describe your sense of fashion?
How much of a rebel are you?
I’m one of the oldest of my kind. They don’t bother me and I don’t bother them. I leave the foolishness for the young. But I will rise to the occasion.
What do you consider to be your greatest achievement?
Not killing humans.
What is your idea of happiness?
Now there is an emotion I stay away from.
What is your current state of mind?
What is your most treasured possession?
The painting a deceased lover did of me. He painted me as if I had a soul.
What is your most marked characteristic?
I take my emotion with a kiss. Others of my kind take in other more violent ways.
What is it that you, most dislike?
I don’t like or not like anything but I do think that my kind killing humans to drain their emotions is unnecessary.
Which living person do you, most despise?
I cannot despise anyone or love anyone for that matter.
What is your greatest regret?
I have none.
What is the quality you most like in a man?
Men with depression draw me like a moth to a flame but for some reason Samuel’s lust consumes me like nothing else I’ve know. How strange.
What is the quality you most like in a woman?
That she be depressed. I can cure her of that right fast.
Who is your favorite hero in fiction?
I don’t read much I’m more visual. I do watch some television and well, I find Aidan Waite interesting from Being Human. And so little interest me. Hmmm isn’t it a coincidence his name in real life is Samuel also.
Which living person do you most admire?
If I could admire anyone it would be Adam. As old as I am he is even older. And dude has more power in his little finger than anyone I know.
If you could change one thing about yourself what would it be?
I would want a soul.
What is your motto?
Leave me be and I will let you live.
LaVerne Thompson is an award winning, best-selling, multi-published author, an avid reader and a writer of contemporary, fantasy, and sci/fi sensual romances. She also writes romantic suspense and new adult romance under the pen name Ursula Sinclair.
She is currently working on several projects. Both of her daughters are now away at college. However, she and her husband don’t like the term empty nester. She’s added a cat to the household to keep the dog of the house company. Hopefully writing will keep her sane.
BOOK SYNOPSISTrue love or the career of a lifetime? Could you choose?
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BOOK SYNOPSISAccept fate, or it destroys you...
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Monday, January 19, 2015
Between Heaven and Earth
Chinese Historical/Mythology/Paranormal Fantasy
Publisher: DSP Publications
Date of Publication: January 6th, 2015
ISBN Ebook – 978-1-62798-779-0
ISBN Paperback – 978-1-62798-778-3
Number of pages: 350
Word Count: 119,000
Cover Artist: Reese Dante
What is worse: Being so broke you can barely afford food, getting hired for dangerous missions way out of your league, suffocating under mountains of unanswered questions—or wanting to sexually dominate someone who can kill you without lifting a finger?
Lu Delong is a mercenary who evaluates antiques most of the time, and deals with the paranormal on rare occasions—even though it’s supposed to be the other way around. When he joins a dangerous quest for an ancient artifact, he meets and becomes strongly attracted to a mysterious and powerful immortal named Cangji. Despite his friends’ warnings and Cangji’s icy, unsociable demeanor, Delong is unable to resist befriending him. However, Cangji is deeply involved in a matter beyond mortals, and Delong is drawn into a chaotic struggle by both visible and invisible forces.
Always the pacifist who wanted to live a simple human life, Delong never imagined he’d end up involved in a conflict that will affect everything from the lowest insects on earth to the highest gods in heaven.
AS USUAL, the market was bustling and crowded on a hot summer day. Chickens clucked, pigs snorted, and citizens of Great Ming screamed over one another at the top of their lungs, deep in heated bargaining battles. Naturally, Lu Delong was no exception.
“Fifteen wen for a bundle of sorry-looking water spinach? You must be joking!” Delong complained as he examined the bunch of tasty greens with a disgusted look. The shop owner was likely from a village outside the city, since Delong had never seen her in the markets before. “This is outrageous!” he accused, staring straight into the woman’s eyes. “You operate a blackhearted business here, madam—I daresay this bundle is only worth three wen.”
The tall, muscular woman’s face turned a bright shade of red. “What in the world are you talking about?” She had a strong accent and was probably one of the refugees who had moved south to escape the drought up north. “Look at how green these plants are, how beautiful and flawless the leaves are—these vegetables are planted in the richest soil in these lands and are fed quality water. Fifteen wen is actually a bargain!” Her gaze swept up and down Delong, and her lips thinned. “I don’t know how a beggar like you grew this big, but if you can’t afford the price, go away! Don’t go off slandering my shop’s vegetables!”
Delong took a step back and glared at her. “Excuse me, madam. How rude of you to assume things from my attire! I am more educated than you think, thank you very much for the discrimination.” He leaned closer and continued, “Have you heard of the story of the Orange Seller before?”
“What Orange Seller?” the woman growled, but she was unable to hide the curiosity in her eyes. Delong snickered inwardly, pleased to find this woman a typical gossip-lover with nothing better to do with her time.
“There once was this Orange Seller who was good at storing oranges so they did not spoil. The oranges were beautiful, with a golden color and jade texture. In the markets, they sold at ten times the price of average oranges, but people still fought to buy them because they believed the fruits to be of exquisite taste. However, when they brought the oranges home to eat, they realized the oranges were all rotten and dried inside. The moral of this story? Never trust appearances,” Delong finished.
“But I’m not selling oranges!” the woman argued, exasperated. She pointed at the spinaches. “You can cut these apart and they’re obviously not dried up and rotten!”
“How do I know you’re not selling poisonous vegetables?” Delong inquired. “They’re so green, I find it very suspicious! If someone dies in this village and they bought vegetables from you, we know who to blame, don’t we? So I’m being nice already to actually offer to buy your vegetables at all. Three wen for one bundle, and I’ll buy two. What say you?”
By now the shop owner was pale. “Fine, fine—but promise you won’t tell anyone else the story you just told me?”
Delong grinned wide. “Deal.” He then proceeded to buy a few more vegetables at a great bargain, and with a basketful of beautiful, delicious vegetables, he hummed on the way back to his house. What a way to start his day—he only had fifteen copper coins in his purse, and he had bought five times his money’s worth.
He eventually arrived at the least organized section of the prefecture, where walled residences of not-so-great condition were squished closely together. Like all commoners with little money and no extended family to care for, Delong lived in a sishuiguitang with a tiny courtyard cramped by one main building and two secondary buildings. He pushed open the creaky gates, stepped into the courtyard, and paused. He glanced at the building to his left, where the kitchen was, before he turned to stare ahead. It didn’t take long for him to figure out what to expect, so he continued whistling and walked into the main building.
“I see you haven’t changed much, Delong,” said the lady at his table, who had already helped herself to a cup of alcohol. Unlike the other guest who sat humbly beside her, Yaqin easily garnered attention. Her robes were made of orange silks lined with beige-colored fur, scantly covering her lithe body and leaving her pale breasts and thighs exposed. Her reddish dark hair was arranged in a complex knot secured by an intricate golden hairpin, and fox fangs dangled from her ears. Any average man would be taken by her stunning beauty and sensual allure, but her charms had little effect on Delong.
Yaqin glanced around the room, her gaze sweeping past the shelves that somewhat divided the place to contain a living room and sleeping quarters, his uncomfortable bed, his study table, and the broom next to it. “Still, your house depresses me,” she sighed. “Only cheap alcohol and less than a catty of rice left? The rest of your belongings are merely old tattered books! You even have a building stuffed full of useless pieces of paper! What in the world have you been doing for the past few months?”
“Nothing,” Delong admitted with a shrug. “Hey, it is not easy finding work,” he said in his defense when Yaqin shook her head with disapproval. “It’s not as though people run into paranormal problems all the time! Even if they do, they’re probably just going to ask for help from prestigious Daoist sects that deal with those problems instead of a freelancer like me. My sole income is from being Old Li’s assistant....” His voice became smaller when Yaqin gave him a pointed look.
“Well, of course I have you and Zhaoyang to thank,” he added hastily while he nodded at the thick-browed man sitting on the chair beside Yaqin. “Old Li always talks fondly of you two, and he takes care of me because he knows we’re good friends. Still, I’m not that bad myself—I helped him greatly with evaluating the goods people like you sell him to give the prices a competitive edge. I have to say, those history books I’ve read paid off!”
“Evaluating antiques, are you?” Yaqin said, unimpressed. “Listen to yourself. All the skills your master taught you, the art you’ve learned at Cloud Fortress Sect—wasted.” She got to her feet and crossed her arms, examining Delong with narrowed amber eyes. “Old Li isn’t going to be around forever, Delong. You know how short human lives are! Do you really plan to spend the rest of your life cooped up in this pathetic shed?”
Delong shrugged. “Hey, it is not nice to call my house a shed! And what is wrong with being an antique seller? You need someone to sell your spoils, don’t you? Old Li already told me that he wants to hand the shop to me, since he has no sons,” he finished proudly.
“That’s—” Yaqin stomped her fur-lined boot, her hands balled into small fists. “Argh! I have never heard of a half-yao selling antiques! You should be out there training to become an immortal xian, causing problems for humans, or exploring the world—not selling antiques, wasting time and money on useless books, and being satisfied with some measly grocery bargain!”
“Now, now, Yaqin, calm down,” chuckled He Zhaoyang as he raised a hand and patted her thigh. Unlike Delong, who chose to tie half his coarse brown hair up only to keep it out of his face, Zhaoyang had his black hair combed into a neat, tight bun, which accentuated his sharp jawbone. Like all who were in his profession, however, his skin was on the pale side. “There are benefits to knowledge, and not every shifter has to lead extraordinary lives, never mind training to become celestial beings, hmm? You know how few mortals, human or yao, can actually succeed in transcending mortality. Besides, we actually could use Delong’s help in our next case.”
Smelling money, Delong straightened his back. “How can I help you two?”
A warm smile spread across Zhaoyang’s face. “Yaqin and I have been invited to participate in what will perhaps be the biggest operation in history, and we need someone who we can trust to come with us and watch our backs.”
“Wait—what?” Delong’s great smile faltered. He wasn’t too comfortable with doing what the couple before him did for a living, even though he was perfectly fine with selling what they brought back. “Well, if you ask, of course I’ll help, but I hope I won’t drag you two down...,” he said carefully. “I have never fought in that sort of... environment. I don’t know what to expect.”
“You’ll be fine,” Yaqin said, waving her hand in dismissal of Delong’s protest. “You’re not exactly human, either.”
“I’m still half-human,” Delong argued. “Unlike you, fox lady! There is nothing wrong with me wanting to live an ordinary life as a human!”
Yaqin merely yawned. “Spare me the cliché. How many times have you used your otherworldly abilities to get your way? How many times have you used your powers during... say, sex? Don’t tell me you don’t use them to boost your stamina.”
“Wh—How can you be so direct and say such things without a shred of embarrassment?” Delong said with disbelief, feeling a little hot now.
Shrugging, Yaqin smirked like the fox she was. She stood, though her full height only reached Delong’s chin. “Why should I be embarrassed?” she inquired, looking up at Delong as she poked the center of his chest. “Still, I hit the target, didn’t I?” Her smile widened when Delong felt the heat spread from his cheeks to his neck. “Despite how harmless and upright your face tends to fool people into thinking you are, with your thick eyebrows, large eyes and all... I knew someone who got kicked out of Cloud Fortress Sect for breaking the celibacy rule would use his powers during sex. But still. Stop using your human lineage as an excuse.” She lifted her hand and placed it on her human husband’s shoulder. “Zhaoyang here leads a far more interesting and extraordinary life than you do!”
As though taking her cue, Zhaoyang added, “Anyway, Delong, I’m asking you to come with us also because I caught wind that, ten years ago, your master was investigating our destination. This may have something to do with her disappearance.”
“Are you serious?” Delong’s eyes widened. “Why would my master investigate tombs? It definitely does not seem like a mission from Cloud Fortress Sect, since defiling the dead is not exactly the best way to become immortal. Even though my master already became a xian and isn’t stuck- up like the rest of the daoshi out there, I can still hardly imagine her barging into some noble’s tomb without good reason.”
“Perhaps,” Zhaoyang said in a lowered voice. “But this tomb she was investigating isn’t by any means an ordinary tomb.” He licked his lip. “This tomb... belonged to a god.”
“You’re planning to rob the tomb of a god?”
Did you always wanted to be a writer? If not what did you want to be?
No, being a writer never crossed my mind. When I was a really small child, I wanted to be a clown. Then a chef. When I got to elementary school, I wanted to be a doctor, and in high school, I wanted to be some sort of DNA researcher. Naturally I ended up not becoming what I aspired to be, majoring in International Business instead.
When did you first consider yourself a “writer”?
I don’t consider myself a writer, actually. A story-teller and an author, perhaps, but I personally don’t think I have the writing skills to call myself a “writer”. At least, compared to other talented artists out there, I am well aware that my prose is nothing to fawn over, and it’s not because English isn’t my first language. I just don’t have that kind of special gift with words, it is not built into my personality.
How long does it usually take you to write a book, from the original idea to finishing writing it?
It depends on the length, but usually one year. I’ve been writing a bit slower now that I have a day job.
What can we expect from you in the future? ie More books of the same genre? Books of a different genre?
Since the Relics of Gods is a series I expect to be about 3~4 books, you’ll definitely see more books of the same genre, but in the future I am considering some geeky thing in the future since I have a character dynamic and an idea/theme I’d like to explore.
What genre would you place your books into?
Chinese historical and BL (aka M/M, but not necessarily romance) for the most part
What made you decide to write that genre of book?
I want to share my culture, and the Chinese historical setting has always been one of my favorite settings because I love the clothes. I am also a big fan of Jin Yong’s wuxia fiction, reading stories set in historical China, and I enjoy playing video games with a historical Chinese setting.
Do you have a favorite character from your books? And why are they your favorite?
My favorite character from my books is Xuechi from “Erasing Shame”. He’s probably the most tortured and broken character I have written, and I don’t think I’ll ever write another character as tragic and conflicted as he is. To me, he was entire focus of the novel, and guessing what he is thinking and what he is feeling is one of the main points of the story. However, this sort of reading behavior is an acquired taste, so I understand if not all readers will enjoy doing that kind of thing. Still, after all I put him through, Xuechi will always have a special place in my heart.
How long have you been writing, and who or what inspired you to write?
I’ve been writing on and off since I was 7, but no one really inspired me to write. I like creating stories and characters, so I’ve drawn several manga since I was 4th grade and written two or three Chinese and English fanfictions. I only began to stick with telling stories through the form of writing because I was back in Taiwan by 11th grade and I needed to study for those College Entrance Exams. I didn’t have time to draw manga/update my online webcomic/manga anymore, so I ended up writing out the story instead. I have been writing ever since.
Do you have a certain routine you have for writing? ie You listen to music, sit in a certain chair?
I definitely listen to music. But no routine, really. I’m somewhat of a pantster and I get distracted easily by research and procrastination.
Do you choose a title first, or write the book then choose the title?
I choose a title first but I can end up changing it by the time I finish the book. For example, I’ve changed the title of the sequel to “the Relics of Gods” a few times before settling on it.
How do you come up with characters names and place names in your books?
For the main characters, I think about the meaning of the characters in their names or the way their names sound, since it’s really easy to make a pun in Chinese. For others, I usually use a name generator and then combine two characters together to make a name—it’s very hard to name characters, in fact, because I don’t include intonations in the text and there are limited pronunciations for standard Chinese (usually there are four intonations). This means a lot of names may end up looking exactly the same, as if it wasn’t difficult enough for non-Chinese readers to remember. Place names are more or less random, if I wasn’t using an existing one. All in all I’m not that big on names most of the time and I only put thought into the main characters’ names.
Do you decide on character traits (ie shy, quiet, tomboy girl) before writing the whole book or as you go along?
I definitely decide on the main character and his love interest’s personality traits before writing the whole book. Character tropes/traits are in fact a major motivation that drives me to actually start writing fiction—I admit I like the idea of a character and pairing dynamics. I think this is also why people love fanfiction so much—they don’t just love the characters, but the character tropes. Personally I like a character because I like certain traits in characters, so I actively look for those tropes and dynamics when I read BL. Of course, I try to flesh the cardboard cutouts into something more 3-dimentional, but it doesn’t change the fact that I have the bad habit of liking the idea of a certain character type. I guess this behavior is something prevalent in anime/manga (where “Moe” is a main selling point), which has affected the Chinese fiction community to a point.
Are there any hidden messages or morals contained in your books? (Morals as in like Aesops Fables type of "The moral of this story is..")
I don’t really think there’s any hidden message in my stories. There will be central themes, but I don’t consider it a message. I’m not trying to lecture anyone, but the books will more or less reflect how I feel about certain issues. I guess the biggest ongoing “message” in my books is that there is no absolute right and wrong, so there is less of a black-and-white, good-vs-evil thing because that is how I personally perceive the world.
What is your favorite book and Why? Have you read it more than once?
I used to put “Ender’s Game” right on top of my list. I re-read it about 4~5 times before I learned about what a homophobic ass the author was in real life. I still like the book a lot, but I can’t bring myself to re-read it at the moment. So, I think the #1 in my list right now is 1984 by George Owell. I haven’t re-read it as many times as, say, Catcher in the Rye, but it shook me and I would like to re-read it again if I had the time to.
My favorite Chinese book is “the Return of the Condor Heroes” by Jin Yong. I’ve read it 3~4 times I think. I just love the main character, Yang Guo, since he is smart, funny, and extremely likeable. The action scenes are awesome and Jin Yong’s Chinese writing is superb—pretty much unparalleled by modern works, at least in my opinion. He is also able to create many unique and memorable side characters, and every hero is distinct in characterization so you don’t get recycled character traits. I personally like “the Return of the Condor Heroes” most because of the main character. I’m a pretty character-driven reader, even though I’m also pretty strict about plot and I also care somewhat about how well the author can write.
Your favorite food is?
If I had to pick one, I’d say sashimi (raw fish). Salmon in particular.
Your favorite color is?
Your favorite Author is?
Priest. She’s a Chinese BL author who writes a variety of genres, and I love her works to pieces because of the plot, world-building, likeable characters and her great sense of humor. It’s a shame her works are only available in Chinese.
In terms of English authors, I like J.D. Salinger the most. I love his prose and cynicism! I know a lot of people think he’s emo and everything, but I’m a rather cynical person so his viewpoints resonate with mine so it’s always a pleasure to read his books.
Yeyu wrote her first story when she was 7, and she has been creating stories on-and-off ever since, be it writing fanfiction or drawing original manga. She finally ventured into writing original fiction in high school, and stuck with the form.
Most of Yeyu’s childhood was spent overseas, but by the age of 16 she moved back to the small East Asian island most commonly known as Taiwan, where she was born.
When Yeyu isn’t writing in her spare time, she is probably reading, gaming, or sleeping. No cats, sadly.
Facebook Page: https://www.facebook.com/QiuxiaoYeyu